


So You Can Drag Me Through Hell If It Meant I Could Hold Your Hand

by edema_ruh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bullet wound, Fluff, Guilt, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Protectiveness, Protests, Rally gone wrong, Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Shooting, Worry, guilty!enjolras, hurt!grantaire, no one dies I promise, rally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a rally, a suspicious man calls Grantaire's attention and it's up to the cynic to protect Enjolras from any possible threats. Even if it means taking a bullet for the blond leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Bring me the Horizon's "Follow You".

Everything happened so fast that not even Enjolras' quick mind could catch up. 

He was delivering his speech on LBGTQA+ for more than one thousand supporters that afternoon. The crowd was fidgeting with excitement, vibrating with his every word. Next to him on the stage were Combeferre, Courfeyrac and, surprisingly, Grantaire. 

Ok, maybe not _that_ surprisingly. Enjolras wouldn’t admit it to anyone other than Combeferre that the only reason Grantaire was up on the stage with them was because he couldn’t have the cynic going around on the crowd distracting their supporters or starting commotions. He didn’t trust Grantaire enough to let him near a crowd again, not after the last rally, in which he showed up drunk out of his mind and disrupted the entire thing. They had a nasty fight after that, Enjolras remembers. At least Grantaire looked sober enough today, and when the blond spotted the mess of dark curls in the middle of the people agglomerating near the stage, he wasted no time in calling his name and telling the man to join him on the stage. As he climbed, he asked – no, begged – Courfeyrac to keep an eye on Grantaire and prevent him from doing anything stupid. 

Enjolras had to wait for a few minutes until the crowd of supporters had gone completely quiet before he could start delivering the speech. Everyone listened carefully as he spoke, sometimes cheering or yelling words of agreement. Enjolras felt proud of himself, not only the Amis were starting to gain support and make a difference, but their rallies were starting to attract more people and even some government bills were having more trouble passing because of their activism. Enjolras' face was getting famous all over the country not only as the leader of the Amis, but also as a promising politian in the future. 

Turns out he was also standing in the way of some people. 

Grantaire was sober – that was uncommon - , which is probably the reason why he realized there was something wrong right away. As he sat beside Courfeyrac under the hot sun shining at the stage, he spotted an odd looking figure on the first row of the crowd, in an angle that Enjolras was probably unable to reach from his spot standing in the middle of the stage. As everyone raised their fists and cheered, the person stood still, staring deeply at Enjolras. Their hand reached for something tucked on the back of their trousers. 

Grantaire was on his feet at the exact second, alert, sparing a look at Enjolras. The blond was still speaking, oblivious to the situation, sun light making his hair look more golden than ever. Grantaire got so distracted staring that he didn’t notice Courfeyrac tugging his shirt. 

"R, sit down! What's going on?" He whispered. 

Grantaire didn’t sit down, crouching beside Courfeyrac instead. 

"Something's off about that person over there at the front row", he gestured quietly with his head. "I think Enjolras might be in danger". 

"R, wait!" Courfeyrac called as the raven got up again and moved so he was closer to Enjolras. 

As he approached Combeferre, who was standing on the left, he fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text message to Bahorel: 

 

 **[16:23] to Bahorel:** _Something's weird about a guy at the front row on the right. Might be armed._  

 

He put the phone back on his pocket and greeted Combeferre with a nod, standing behind the man and crossing his arms. 

"What's up?" Combeferre, who was no fool, questioned. 

"Saw someone acting weird. Think Enjolras might be in danger". 

Combeferre spared him a long, studying look. 

"What?", the raven asked. 

"Did you drink something before coming over?" 

"No", Grantaire answered, rolling his eyes. "I'm starting to think I should have, though". 

"I don’t think there's reason to worry, R. It's very unlikely someone would be stupid enough to try and hurt Enjolras in plain sight during a rally. If they would do it, it would probably be somewhere without a thousand witnesses". 

"You underestimate human stupidity", Grantaire answered, still looking at the odd looking person, who had gotten even closer to the stage now. 

"There's no need to be over protective of Enjolras", Combeferre sighed. Grantaire turned to look at him. 

"You think I'm being over protective?" 

"Well, given the circumstance, I would say you're trying to prove yourself to gain his sympathy. I can't see anything wrong with anyone on the front row". 

"Well, look closer", Grantaire said, pointing shamelessly at the odd person at the crowd. "Watch". 

Enjolras said something that earned another cheer from the crowd, and the person stood still, always staring. Their hand reached for something behind them again. 

He looked at Combeferre, to catch him biting his lower lip in a worried maner. 

"Warn Bahorel. I'll give Bossuet and Feuilly a call and tell them to keep an eye out for trouble. If anything happens, get Enjolras out of here", the brunette said, excusing himself as he dialed Bossuet's number and went to the back of the stage, where it was quieter. 

The speech was almost over now, from the way Enjolras kept pacing unstoppably and gesticulating with his free hand like he did when he wanted to be emphatic. As usual, he'd stand still in the middle of the stage to deliver the final phrase. Grantaire knew that would be the time to act, should anyone try anything against the blond. 

Just as Combeferre returned, putting his phone away, and Enjolras stopped pacing, Grantaire saw the person definitely pulling something from their trousers. Everything seemed to slow down. 

He saw Bahorel running like crazy towards the person, seeing they were armed – like Grantaire had guessed – and trying to reach them before they could shoot. 

On the extreme opposite side of the stage, Courfeyrac was getting to his feet, also seeing the gun, and looking desperately at Enjolras. 

Behind him, Combeferre had held his breath, tensing up, also seeing the person taking aim at Enjolras, finger reaching slowly to the trigger. 

Beside the possible shooter, a girl turned her head and stared straight at the gun, eyebrows raising in horror and mouth opening, ready to scream. 

In the middle of the stage, Enjolras stood, fierce as ever, delivering the last words of his speech – which could also be his last words ever. 

Grantaire knew Bahorel wouldn’t be able to reach the shooter in time, so he did the only plausible thing. 

He ran towards Enjolras as fast as he could, managing to dodge Combeferre's hand reaching to grasp him. He threw himself in front of the leader at the exact time the shooter pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times. 

Something wet and warm hit Enjolras' face before Grantaire's body collided with his, both men going down. Enjolras' head hit the wooden floor harshly, Grantaire's weight pining him down to the floor.  

Bahorel finally reached the man, colliding against him and holding his body down on the floor. The girl beside him kicked the gun away from his grasp, still screaming loudly. Bahorel wasted no time and grabbed the man's head, hitting it against the hot asphalt until the shooter lost consciousness. Feuilly arrived, helping Bahorel carry the unconscious man away to where a police patrol car was scouting the event. 

On the stage, Grantaire's body lay on the top of Enjolras', and the blond struggled to drag himself from below the weight crushing him. He didn’t understand what was happening, it was all too fast. 

In no time Combeferre was kneeling beside them, desperate look in his eyes, and a pair of hands was pulling Enjolras and helping him get away from Grantaire. Enjolras looked down at his shirt and saw it was completely tinged red.  

As soon as Courfeyrac let go of him, he took his hand to his cheek. Something wet contacted his fingers and he was horrified when he looked at his trembling hand and saw blood on it. 

Not his blood. 

 _Grantaire's blood_. 

Grantaire, who had just jumped in front of incoming bullets so he could save Enjolras. 

He crawled his way to where the man was splayed at the wooden floor, eyelids half closed and unconscious. Combeferre was sobbing – sobbing? Is that even possible? - as he tried to put pressure on one of the wounds, Courfeyrac beside him trying to put pressure on the other. Joly came rushing, medical kit on hand and phone on the other, and it sounded like he was giving details about what happened and begging that an ambulance was sent right away. 

Courfeyrac gave the young doctor space so he could do primary aids, and went to stay at Enjolras side. He looked like he was going to reach for the blond but changed his mind.  

"Keep putting pressure on that, 'Ferre", Joly was instructing, his voice trembling yet concise. "Where was he shot?" 

"Stomach, clavicle and chest, though I don't think it hit his heart", Combeferre said, glasses blurry from tears and droplets of blood tinging his chin and neck. 

"Alright, then start applying pressure to his stomach, here, have this", Joly passed Combeferre some gauzes as he yelled at the phone "Just send a goddamn ambulance right now!" 

Enjolras didn’t realize he was kneeling beside Grantaire's head, bloodied and trembling hands slowly caressing the man's curls, until Grantaire opened his eyes and let out a blood curdling scream. 

"Courfeyrac, hold him down, don’t let him move!" Joly instructed, and seeing Combeferre was hesitating to put pressure on the stomach wound, he said: "Keep putting pressure on that, no matter what!" 

"Enjolras, please, help me pine him down", Courfeyrac asked, shoving Enjolras to the side and holding a struggling Grantaire by the shoulder. The man was grunting and panting, trying to free himself from Courfeyrac's hold and Combeferre's hands, but to no avail. Enjolras hesitantly helped Courfeyrac hold him, afraid to touch the man. 

"Stop, hurts", Grantaire cried, still struggling. 

"I know R, I'm sorry, but we need to do this okay? Just hang on, a little bit more", Joly answered, sounding pained, as he tried to put pressure on Grantaire's shoulder and chest at the same time. 

"Sleepy", Grantaire muttered, lids half closing again. His mouth was slack and he was breathing wetly through it. If were not for the blood and the knowledge Grantaire had been shot, Enjolras figured he could be sleeping his drink off. 

"No!", Joly screamed, startling Enjolras. "No sleeping! You have to stay awake until the ambulance arrives, you hear me? No sleeping, R!", the doctor slapped him in the face several times until the man opened his eyes again, grunting. 

"M tired", he complained, coughing and whimpering. 

"Enjolras, keep him awake", Joly begged, turning his attention to the wounds and trying to ignore the blood pooling around his knees. 

At the mention of the blond's name, Grantaire's glassy eyes focused a bit more. 

"'Jolras?" He asked, voice raspy. "Where's 'Jolras? Did I save 'im?" 

At this, Enjolras' heart tightened inside his chest. 

"I'm right here", he said, leaning over so he'd be in Grantaire's line of sight. The cynic seemed to relax at this, breathing evening out and frown nearly disappearing.  

"Apollo", he sighed, with so much adoration in his voice, and Enjolras felt something wet pooling in his eyes. 

"I'm no god", was Enjolras' automatic response, and he instantly cursed himself for saying such harsh words to the man who had just saved his life. "I'm – why did you do this, Grantaire?" 

"Couldn’t let you die", he slurred, staring straight at Enjolras. 

"And now you're dying instead!" Enjolras complained. "How could you be so reckless?" 

"Rather...", he coughed wetly, "rather me than you". 

"Don't say that", Enjolras whispered, caressing Grantaire's curls away from his sweaty forehead and laying a kiss on the man's brow. Grantaire shivered. "Never say that. I owe you my life". 

"'M cold", Grantaire whispered, lids falling close again. 

"Where the fuck is that ambulance?" Joly yelled, desperate. 

"R, stay with me", Enjolras slapped the raven in the face until his eyes opened again. This time, it took longer for them to focus on Enjolras. 

"I'm... Enjolras, I'm -" 

"Shh, don't speak too much, you're going to be okay", Enjolras said, tenderly. Beside him Courfeyrac frowned, unfamiliar with this side of his friend. "Just stay awake for a bit longer alright?" 

"I can't", Grantaire cried, trying to twist his body again. "Hurts too much". 

"I know, I know", Enjolras whispered in the man's ear, never stopping to caress his hair and desperate to keep him awake. "But let's make a deal. If you stay awake for just a little bit more, I'll do whatever you want. Whether it's to go on that silly karaoke bar with you or black your boots for a week, alright? Do we have a deal?" 

Grantaire tried to laugh but whimpered in pain, and Enjolras had never felt more guilty in his entire life. 

"You're... you're one of a kind, 'Pollo", he said, weakly. 

"So are you. Tell me, what do you want in exchange for being awake?" Enjolras answered. 

"Marry me?", Grantaire asked, blinking sluggishly, a tinge of a grin on his pale lips. 

"Of course. I'll marry you", Enjolras replied. 

"Prom'se?" 

"I promise. Just stay awake for me, ok?" 

"Alright" Grantaire slurred, head lolling to the side. 

Enjolras looked up at Joly, who was staring at him with a worried frown. The doctor's forearms were covered in red, droplets of blood contrasting against the paleness of his face. The bullet holes on R's body were still oozing blood, and the wooden floor of the stage was so covered in it that it suddenly seemed impossible for Grantaire to survive. Was it possible for him to make it, having lost so much blood? 

"He's not breathing!", Jehan cried from behind them, and when the hell had Jehan arrived? 

"Shit!", Joly exclaimed, placing two fingers against Grantaire's neck to check the pulse. " **Where the fuck is that ambulance**?", he screamed, more loudly than Enjolras had ever heard him. 

"R!", Combeferre slapped his face, to no avail. "Joly, shouldn't we do a CPR?" 

Joly started to panic, putting even more pressure on the wounds, tears staining his face. 

"I don't know, oh my god, I don't know, I'm not supposed to be, oh my god, Combeferre, what do I -" 

He was cut off by the piercing sound of an ambulance arriving, siren piercing the square they were at. Suddenly there were paramedics rushing to them, and steady hands shoving Enjolras and Courfeyrac away, as Joly explained what had happened as concisely as he could and followed them as they rushed Grantaire back to the ambulance. Enjolras didn’t realize he had also been following until one of the paramedics stopped him with a steady hand on his chest. 

"There's no room for you, you can't come with us", she explained, climbing into the back of the ambulance where Joly was already sitting, holding an unconscious Grantaire's hand while two paramedics did their jobs. 

"But he's my-", he started to say, but the woman closed the door on his face and the ambulance took off. 

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed as he stood there, looking at the spot the ambulance used to be. Eventually, a steady hand on his shoulder – Combeferre, bless him – brought him back to reality, and he fell to his knees, all strength leaving him at once. Combeferre hugged him close as he sobbed, until Enjolras eventually pushed him away and vomited on the ground. 

"This is my fault", Enjolras whispered as he cleaned his lips with the back of his hand. "He'll die and it'll be my fault". 

"He's not gonna die", Combeferre reassured, rubbing soothing circles on the blond's back. "Joly is with him and the paramedics arrived just in time. He's going to be okay, Enjolras". 

"There was so much blood", Enjolras cried as Combeferre hugged him again. 

"I know, my friend, I know", the brunette replied. 

"It should have been me", Enjolras whispered, horrified. 

"But he saved you", Combeferre reassured. 

"I'm going to lose him", Enjolras said. But how could he lose something that was never his? 

"You're not", Combeferre said. "We're not. He'll be just fine". 

"I want to see him", Enjolras sobbed. 

"We will. Let's get home and wash up, and then we'll head straight to the hospital okay?" 

Enjolras felt the need to disagree, to fight Combeferre, to run to the hospital and apologize to Grantaire for all the times he was rude to him, to beg for the man's forgiveness, but his bones were so weary and his heart was so heavy he allowed his best friend to help him to his feet and lead him to their apartment, followed close by the rest of their friends, faces full of grief and tears.


	2. Chapter 2

The journey to the house was like a blur to Enjolras. In fact, so was the journey to the hospital. He couldn’t remember anything from the moment he took off from the square with Combeferre to the moment they arrived at the white building. It was as if Enjolras' legs had come to life, leading him to where he was supposed to be without aid from his brain. 

When Enjolras' perception of time and space finally returned, he found himself sitting between Combeferre and Courfeyrac in the hospital's waiting room. Blinking sluggishly and looking around, he saw Jehan sitting across the room from him, Bahorel beside him and Feuilly standing beside the pair. 

"How long have we been here?" Enjolras asked no one in particular, voice merely a whisper. 

"About one hour", it was Courfeyrac who responded. 

"Is he going to be okay?" 

"They don't know yet, Enj", Combeferre said patiently. "He's still in surgery". 

"I'm sure he'll be just fine", Courfeyrac supplied, but his voice lacked it's usual energy. 

"I need to do something", Enjolras whispered, voice trembling. His voice never trembled. He felt week and exposed, a weariness that went all the way down his spine. "I can't handle just sitting here, I need to see him". He made to get up from the chair, but Combeferre's steady grip on his wrist stopped him from standing upright. 

"Enjolras, please calm down", his best friend said. "There is nothing we can do for R right now. We need to wait, I'm sure a doctor will appear in no time and tell us how the surgery went". 

"Where are Joly and Bossuet?", Enjolras asked, suddenly noticing the absence of the two friends. Combeferre stared at him with a worried frown. 

"They went home so Joly could take a shower and change clothes. That was ten minutes ago, don’t you remember?" 

Enjolras felt his heart beating faster inside his chest. What was happening to him? His voice was trembling, his hands were shaking, his attention was practically nule. That was terribly unlike himself. Why was Grantaire being hurt affecting him so much? Sure, the only reason the man got hurt was because of Enjolras, but his sluggish brain supplied that, had it been anybody else, he surely would be way more level headed. Something was wrong. 

He didn’t even like Grantaire, did he? 

"Enjolras, are you okay?", he heard Jehan ask, but the voice sounded like it was far away from him, across a different room, or a different plain of existence. 

He didn’t notice the white spots before his eyes until the exhaustion and worry took the best of him, and the last thing he felt before blacking out was the sharp thud of his head connecting with the hospital floor. 

- 

The first thing Grantaire noticed when he woke up was the pain. 

As his consciousness returned, the pain accompanied it, and he couldn’t help but frown at the way his chest was burning. 

It took him a long time to finally open his eyes, and the bright white light of the ceiling made his eyes sting and the back of his eyes hurt. He shut his eyelids tightly against the discomfort, and decided he wouldn’t open them again ever. 

"R? Are you awake?" He could hear Joly's voice asking, merely a whisper. 

All that Grantaire could manage to answer was a low groan. The sound of footsteps echoed across the room and was followed by the loud sound of curtains closing. 

"Am I dead?" Grantaire asked, despite the dryness of his throat and the way his voice sounded like the broken engine of a car. 

At this, Joly chuckled, sounding somewhat relieved. 

"No, you're not. But it was a really close call. Please don’t ever scare me like that again". 

"What happened?" Grantaire asked, his brain too slow and sluggish because of the drugs to supply him with any useful information. 

"We were at the protest and a man tried to shoot Enjolras. You threw himself in front of him and took three bullets. I have never been this stressed out in my entire life, I'll let you know that. If you ever pull off something like this again I'll make sure I'm the one who shoots you". 

Grantaire tried to laugh, but it came out muffled and followed by a dry cough that sent waves of pain down his torso. Joly hurried to his side, grabbing a cup of water from the nightstand and bringing it to Grantaire's chapped lips. The injured man drank it gladly, the liquid soothing his throat and tongue. Joly was fussing over him, checking his eyes and straightening his pillows, when a sudden thought invaded Grantaire's mind. 

"Is Enjolras okay?" He asked, worry evident in his voice. "Where is he? Did he get hurt?" 

Joly smiled at this, pulling the curtain around the bed open.  

Beside Grantaire's bed, there was another one. Enjolras was lying there, lids closed and mouth slack open. There was a bandage around his head, hiding his blond curls. Joly thought Grantaire would be happy at the sight, but was confused when he turned around and saw the cynic's face twisted in horror. Only then the young doctor realized what Grantaire must be thinking. 

"Oh my god, don't worry, this is not what it looks like", Joly explained, quickly withdrawing the curtain and blocking Enjolras from the man's view. "Sorry, I should have thought this through. He's ok, you saved him. His head is bandaged because he got so worried about you he passed out and hit his head on the floor. He should be awake in a few hours". 

Grantaire  stared at his friend in confusion. 

"He passed out because he was worried about me?" He asked after a long time in thoughtful silence. 

"Yes. You got him really worked up. All of us, actually. Jehan is probably still crying. I'll let them all know you're awake, but I don't think you should take visitors yet, you still need to rest. You can see everyone tomorrow". 

"For how long have I been out?" Grantaire asked. 

"One day, nearly. But you still need to rest and recover. Enjolras has been asleep for 22 hours, but that's because he was put under before he could hurt himself further. He should wake up in no time". 

"What the fuck", Grantaire muttered to himself, eyelids feeling heavy all of a sudden and tiredness catching up with him. Joly chuckled again, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. 

"Go to sleep, R. We will all be here when you wake up". 

Grantaire tried to answer, but when he opened his mouth he realized his eyes were already closed, limbs feeling heavy and the thick darkness of sleep already claiming him. 

He dreamed dreams of Enjolras and happiness. 

- 

The second time he woke up, was to a loud snoring sound coming from his bed. 

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly until they caught focus, and his still drugged brain took a long time to realize the small pressure beside him. Propping himself into a sitting position, despite the pain on his chest, he spotted a mass of blond curls lying beside his hip. Enjolras was sitting on a plastic chair beside his bed, body leaned over so his head was resting on the bed. One of his arms was beneath his head, supporting it, the other one was out of Grantaire's line of sight, probably hanging over the bed. The bandage on his head was gone, but Grantaire could see a stitched cut on his forehead, that probably opened when he hit the floor. The leader's mouth was half open, short yet loud snoring sounds being emitted from it. There were dark circles under his eyes, and yet he never looked more beautiful. His hair was messy and disheveled, curls pointing in every direction. Grantaire didn’t realize he had been staring at Enjolras' sleeping figure for what must have been a long time until the man stirred, eyes blinking open. 

It took Enjolras a few seconds until his vision focused and he straightened himself in his chair, not noticing Grantaire was awake. He stretched, not sparing a thought about the way his shirt was pulled up, revealing a small part of his torso. His shoulders cracked into place after spending hours in the uncomfortable position of leaning over the bed. 

"There's no way I'm not dead", Grantaire muttered, voice raspy. 

Enjolras startled, looking at the man's face with wide eyes. He couldn’t help but let a smile bloom across his face. 

"You're awake!" He stated dumbly. 

"Are you sure? Because everything about this sounds like a dream to me", he retorted. Enjolras let out a heart warming laugh. 

"Oh my god you're ridiculous. Do you have any idea of how worried I was?" 

"Joly told me about it. But really, Apollo, you shouldn’t have. I'm good as new, see?" Grantaire lifted both arms in a displaying manner, but they felt heavy and felt back to the bed with a thump. Enjolras rolled his eyes. 

"You've been out for three days", the leader supplied. "You got everyone really worried, you know". 

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'll make sure I don't jump in front of incoming bullets anytime in the future", Grantaire joked. 

Enjolras' face fell at this and he looked down at his hands, seeming somewhat... guilty. 

"Apollo?" Grantaire asked, frowning. 

"You shouldn’t have", Enjolras said, voice small. 

"Pardon me?" 

"You shouldn’t have done that, Grantaire. Putting yourself at risk like that, it was reckless of you. You could have died". 

"Well, but I didn’t die. What was I supposed to do, let you get shot instead?" Grantaire asked, indignant. 

"Yes!", Enjolras exclaimed, sounding angry. "Those bullets were meant for me. I was the one delivering the speech, I am the public face of Les Amis. You shouldn’t have done that". 

"Sorry if I wasn’t up to letting your fantasy of dying like a martyr get fulfilled", Grantaire rolled his eyes. "I wasn’t about to let you get shot and die at the spot, Enjolras". 

"Who says I would have died?" Enjolras asked. 

"You're shorter than me. The bullet might have hit your head", Grantaire answered, remembering his horror when he first saw Enjolras' bandaged head as he lied on the bed beside him. He suppressed the shiver threatening to go down his spine. 

"So what?" Enjolras asked, sounding like a petulant child. "I'm prepared to die for what I believe in". 

"So am I", Grantaire answered without thinking. Enjolras frowned, and then scoffed. 

"You don’t believe in anything", the leader said, halfheartedly. 

"I believe in you", Grantaire answered straight away, looking Enjolras directly in the eye. They stared at each other for a long time, neither knowing what to say next or daring to break the silence between them. 

The tense silence was interrupted by a coughing fit, Grantaire doubling over and covering his mouth with his hand. Enjolras was immediately at his side, one hand rubbing soothing circles on the man's back and the other reaching for a cup of water. He helped Grantaire drink the water, and bit his lip at the way the man whimpered in pain when lying back. 

"You stupid, reckless man", Enjolras commented as he put the glass back down on the nightstand. "Don’t you see what you done to yourself?" He put his hand gently over Grantaire's, wanting to brush the man's thick curls away from his forehead but not daring to. 

"I would take a bullet for you any day, Apollo", Grantaire muttered, voice even raspier. "I don’t regret anything". 

"But why would you do such a thing?", Enjolras asked, genuinely confused. "You don’t believe in our cause or in the revolution. Why would you take a bullet for me?" 

"You're hurting me, Enjolras", Grantaire whispered, closing his eyes before the tears welling there could fall. He could hear Enjolras' harsh intake of breath beside him. "Please, not even you can be that blind. Not when I've made my feelings as clear as the day". 

"Your... feelings?" Enjolras asked, dread taking over his voice. 

"Yes, my feelings", Grantaire sighed. "I love you, Enjolras. I thought you already knew that". He ignored the way his heart was thumping madly inside his chest. 

"You... love me?" 

"Are you going to repeat everything I say now? Yes, I love you. I've been madly in love with you since I first heard your stupid speech on gay rights on that protest near my art studio. I've been head over heels for you for three years now, and honestly, I'm tired of pining after you, so that's it. Now you know". 

When he dared to open his eyes again, he saw Enjolras staring at him with an indecipherable look in his eyes. 

"I love you too", he said, not breaking Grantaire's gaze. The cynic chuckled on the bed. 

"Come on now, Enjolras", Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. "The last thing I need right now is your pity. See, that's exactly why I never told-" 

"No!", Enjolras interrupted, sounding nervous. And since when Enjolras sounded nervous? "I'm being serious, I would never joke about this, or tell you anything out of pity. I didn’t understand my feelings until three days ago, and I'm really really sorry that what it took for me to realize I love you was you getting hurt. I whish it had been under different circumstances, and I really whish you hadn't taken those bullets. Seeing you hurt, bleeding, it made me more nervous than I've ever felt before. I thought you would die. I thought I would lose you, what would I do without you disrupting my every meeting, Grantaire? And the knowledge that the only reason you were up that stage was because I asked you to, oh my god, Grantaire, I'm so sorry, please don’t do this ever again", Enjolras leaned forward, hugging Grantaire in the best way he could without hurting the man or upsetting his injuries. Grantaire, despite being shocked, managed to put a hand on Enjolras' head and slowly caress the curls affectionately. 

"Enjolras, please, listen to me", he said, still caressing his hair. "It wasn’t your fault, so don’t beat yourself over it. What I did was my choice, and mine alone. I was aware of the consequences when I jumped in front of the bullets. And I did it because I love you, and I didn’t want to see you hurt. So please stop acting like you took my unwilling body and used it as a shield because that’s not what happened ok? And you don't need to trick yourself into loving me just because I saved your life, so please don’t say you do unless you mean it". 

Enjolras raised his head and looked at Grantaire, shocked. 

"You think I'm lying to you?" He asked, horrified. 

Grantaire didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut. 

"You think I'd lie about that?", Enjolras continued, leaning away from the cynic and sitting straight on the chair. "You think I'm cruel enough to lie to you about my feelings?" 

"No, I never said tha-" 

"Then why don’t you believe me?" 

Grantaire stared at him, scared. 

"I don’t know", he shrugged, uncomfortable. "I guess I just don’t think it would be possible for you to love me back. I think you just believe you do because you feel guilty about me being in a hospital bed". 

Enjolras shut his lips tight and frowned, a face Grantaire was used to. It was his "Grantaire-is-being-a-stupid-jerk-and-now-is-the-time-for-me-to-drag-his-ass" face. 

Grantaire was expecting a five-page long speech or a Descartes-based argument to prove him wrong, but instead he tried not to have a heart attack as Enjolras leaned forward suddenly and kissed him on the lips. 

It took his sluggish, shell-shocked brain a couple seconds to keep up and return the kiss, despite his lips being chapped and his breath probably smelling terribly, but Enjolras didn’t seem to mind. His soft hands caressed Grantaire's face gently, affectionately, and Grantaire couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips when Enjolras tugged lightly at his hair. They parted after what felt simultaneously as an eternity and not long enough time, both gasping for air and flustered. 

"Do you believe me now?" Enjolras asked, sounding hopeful. 

Grantaire grinned. 

"Not quite yet. I guess I need another demonstration", he jested. 

He hadn't expected Enjolras to actually kiss him again. 

"What about now?" 

"Hmmm...", Grantaire hummed. "Nope, I didn’t get it yet. Maybe one more time?" 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and smiled. 

"You're ridiculous", he said, kissing Grantaire again. "And I'll kiss you as many times as you'd like, until you believe I love you". 

"That might take some time", Grantaire said honestly. "But I think that, with enough demonstration, I can get used to it". 

Enjolras laughed, lowering his head, and squeezed Grantaire's hand again. 

"I believe I don’t mind demonstrating, no matter how many times it takes you to believe me", he delivered a quick kiss to Grantaire's hand. "Besides, I owe you a marriage proposal". 

They both laughed loudly at this, and that's how Joly found them hours later as he walked into the hospital room. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope this turned out ok! As always, kudos and comments are immensely appreciated, and so is constructive criticism! Thank you for reading ^-^


End file.
